


Choking on Secrets

by deathwailart



Series: Eimhir Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I'm no good for you</i>, he thinks.  <i>You deserve better than this. You deserve more than an old man and a lie.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Choking on Secrets

It is too easy to be with her. He's weak, he thinks, for not trying harder, for putting the decision on her and staying when she said yes. It was easy when it was just words and he's a man, he can admit that it's flattering when someone young and bright and unfettered appears and flirts so boldly, the arrogance of youth apparent in her hands on her hips, the tilt of her chin and the smirk on her lips. Flaming red hair and the green swirls and lines of Dalish tattoos along those high cheekbones and beneath her chin, her always running around in tight leathers. Impossible not to admire someone who can move so fast and without fear, who knows just where to strike and when, darting past whatever the enemy throws at her or the spells their own mages cast, past heavy blades and shields and between volleys of bolts and arrows.  
  
It is easy to kiss her pliant mouth and forget that she might yet decide the fate of nations. She never believed Andraste was involved in it, doesn't believe in Andraste much at all, but he still thinks privately that it was more than what they saw in the Fade, that Andraste moved through the Divine to reach out for this young woman so she would stand against the dark. He swallows her moan as she arches beneath him, her hands clutching the front of his shirt tight and he tries not to think about how she gains alliances, how she has recruited so many to their cause despite all the arguments. Mages, Wardens, even the Imperial Court, enthralled by her, believing in her the way he does and he should have stopped this, should have been a man about it and kept it to jokes and teasing but he wanted this. She wants it too but she wouldn't if she knew the truth, how could someone like her want a man who lied? How could she ever want Thom Rainier?  
  
He has never been a man truly blessed with words but how does he tell her how he feels when he looks at her? He's no poet, no bard, he can't tell her that she's incandescent, that he looks at her and sees the sun, the calm after the storm when she's covered in blood and her hand glows, the rift closing behind her. She walked the Fade not once but twice and caused no Blight, she will vanquish Corypheus and his archdemon. She laughs and jokes most of the time, not that she doesn't struggle but considering what she faces there are times she makes it look so easy as she goes back to teasing people and never taking herself or any of it too seriously. Until she's alone. Until the world rests on her shoulders and no one else knows how to help shoulder that weight except fighting tooth and nail against whatever she leads them into.  
  
He'll fight harder than all the rest. He'd be her champion if he were to stay.  
  
_I'm no good for you_ , he thinks as he helps her to wriggle out of her armour, kissing down her throat and between her breasts, one palm over her ribs to feel the steady thump of her heart. _You deserve better than this. You deserve more than an old man and a lie._ He can't say that, too weak, too afraid, he'll be gone before she wakes because he's unworthy of this. He kisses further down, listens to her gasp and moan, her fingers in his hair.  
  
They should be doing this in a bed, not a hayloft. Her room where he can take his time and make her fall apart and she clutches him tight, rakes her nails down his back and he thinks it's fitting that this is how he'll remember her. She speaks her own tongue when she's close, he doesn't understand the words and it's better that way, easier. He strokes her hair after, kisses her and lets her curl against him, tracing the tattoos and along over her ear, down her jaw, over her lips and her nose, commits her to memory. He looks back when he leaves and the guilt is a knife to the gut and no more than he deserves. He didn't want to hurt her and this is the best way, to cut and run like he did before. She's young. She's got an inquisition to lead and she can do it without someone like him as he creeps out like a thief in the night, no one paying any mind to an old man strolling out the gates.  
  
It'll serve him right if she hates him but he won't be there to see even if he wishes he'd been a strong enough man, a good enough man, to tell her why. That he'd told her from the start when they found the badge instead of leaving her to wake up naked and alone with just a letter. There was so much more he wanted to say in but couldn't, keeping it as short and impersonal as he could, as if the apology in it would ever be enough even if he meant every word. He wonders if she'll ever learn the truth – Leliana after all would be someone who could track him down and he's always wondered if it would come to light, especially since the Wardens got mixed up in all of this and that bloody arse at the Winter Palace that she overheard, something he should never have agreed to but he couldn't say no when she asked, not just because it would've looked suspicious but he wanted to be there, wanted to see her make the Orlesian court eat from her palm.  
  
She'll be hurting. Maybe she'll throw things, go hunt down demons or something else, throw herself into it because he's seen her angry when they were in the Fade and that nightmare wanted to taunt her, how she threw herself at it, all snarling mouth and wicked blades in either hand. Or maybe she'll carry on as though nothing's the matter, swallow it down and get on with things.  
  
The guilt weighs him down, his only companion on the journey to set something right for once.


End file.
